Apollo (Contemporary Mythos Book 2)

Another day at the studio. Another rehearsal. You’d think it would get tiring or boring performing the same routines, the same moves for hours on end every day—not for me. I felt fortunate to be able to do something I loved and get paid for it. Granted, I was no Hollywood actor making millions on a single movie, but I could still call myself a professional—few people could say that.

I sipped on my second Red Bull, waiting for the taurine to kick in. When Kate and I dragged our feet this morning, we stared at each other’s faces for a good minute—sunken dark eyes, messy hair, pale faces. We broke into uncontrollable laughter. We felt and looked like hell, but last night was worth every grueling moment today would bring.

I propped my foot on the bench and laced my pointe shoes, pressing my hand over them, ensuring they were tight enough.

“Did you miss me?” Ace’s voice whispered over my shoulder.

My face brightened, a bubbly flutter circling in my chest, but I dampened it before turning around to face him. Couldn’t let his ego get too big, now could I?

I straddled the bench and drummed my hands against the wood. “Like a dog misses its fleas.”

“Touché.” He chuckled and sat down, mirroring my position. He donned a white v-neck T-shirt that hugged his arms just enough to make them look immaculate.

“Charity concert went well, I presume?”

He shrugged, giving his hair a toss away from his eyes. “About as good as they always go. I sing, play the game, smile, and all is well with the world.”

“You make it sound like you’re a puppet. You love the attention, and you know it.”

“Not denying that. But when I’m on stage, everyone sees a ‘character.’ I’m more than happy to play it, but sometimes—”

I bit my lip. “You want to be normal?”

“Yeah.” His gaze could’ve singed a hole straight through my leotard.

We kissed before he left. He knew it. I knew it. But neither of us spoke a word.

He glanced at the Red Bull sitting next to me. “Long night?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” I snorted.

Scooping the can up, I tilted my head back and finished it.

“We were up until the crack of dawn singing karaoke,” Kate chimed out of nowhere.

Ace squared off, focusing his attention on me. “Oh, really?”

“Yup.” I caught Kate’s gaze, attempting to communicate with her telepathically.

Do not say what I think you’re about to say, or so help me.

Kate clucked her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “Apollo’s Suns songs to be exact.”

My non-existent telepathy was on the fritz.

I wanted to glare at her. Let her know her comments were neither needed nor appreciated here, but Ace wouldn’t take his eyes off me.

“How very interesting.” He folded his arms and curled his lips into seduction personified. “How many lyrics did you have to flub because you didn’t know them?”

Kate dangled her arms over my shoulders from behind. “None. She knew them all.”

My eyes widened, and I shot to my feet. “Rehearsal starts in three minutes. We better get in there before Roy gets cranky.” I tossed Kate an exasperated glare. One that screamed traitor, and she knew it.

She shrugged with raised brows, whipped out her phone, and furiously typed as she walked away and into the studio.

The heat radiated over my skin, and I knew Ace stood behind me.

“Knew all the lyrics, huh?” The tip of his tongue curved over his top lip for a fraction of a second.

A lip mine had slid over, just the other night. “They’ve maybe, perhaps, grown on me.”

“I think that’s one of the nicest things you’ve said to me since we’ve met, Sparky.”

The armor wasn’t ready to be shed. Not yet. “Don’t get too used to it, Rockstar.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He moved past me, walking backward into the studio with his arms out at his sides. “Wouldn’t know what to do without our…tongue lashings.” The intensity in his stare heated.

Giving my bun one last tightening, I walked inside with my chin held high. Ace walked over to Roy, and they exchanged words I couldn’t hear. For once, I didn’t try to listen. Ace sat at the front with his guitar resting on his lap, sticking a guitar pick between his teeth.

“The Procession. We’re doing it over and over until it looks pristine. Once you all can master that, the rest of the performance should feel like a walk in the park.” Roy tightened his grip on his cane.

He slammed the cane on the ground, and Ace started playing.

Kate and I exchanged a glance. Of all days for us to come in hungover.

We practiced the same moves over and over for hours, with only five-minute breaks every half hour. My toes ached inside my pointe shoes, and I could feel a blister forming on one of my pinky toes. If I’d have known we would get pushed this hard today, I would’ve added a gel overlay to the lambswool on my toes for extra protection.

It was around hour five I could tell my feet had had enough. It wouldn’t be the first time my toes endured torture from prolonged pointe work, but the repeated turns on my thirty-two-year-old feet reminded me I wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. I kept a smile plastered on my face but couldn’t help the occasional wince when I felt the blisters rubbing against the inside of my shoes. My leg swung around for the last fouetté turn, and I let out an agonized cry I couldn’t hold back, slipping off my toe.

A strong arm wrapped around my waist, preventing me from falling to the ground. Ace. I tried to walk but grimaced from the pain shooting up my leg. He whisked his other arm behind my knees and picked me up. I curled my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder, hiding the tears streaking my face.

“I’ll take her out in the hall. A recording of the guitar is on the thumb drive.” Ace’s deep voice echoed through my ear pressed against his chest.

He sat me down on a bench around the corner from the studio door, moving my feet to his lap. I gritted my teeth, reaching for the ribbons of my pointe shoe. As soon as I tugged on it, pain coursed through my foot, and I hissed.

“Here, let me.” Ace kept his voice low, soothing.

The wall was behind me, and I pressed my head against it. “No. My feet are going to be so ugly right now. I can tell I have at least four blisters, and judging by the sting…they’re bleeding.” It’d happened before. Sometimes artists literally bled for their craft.

“I promise you I’ve seen much worse.”

His gaze turned serene. I could’ve dived straight into those blue pools.

“Laurel, let me help you.”

I closed my eyes and nodded, pushing my skull against the concrete wall.

With the delicate touch of a feather, he undid the ribbons of each shoe, slipping them off with equal care. I pinched my eyes tighter to keep from looking at the atrocity. The AC vent above us sent air over my skin, cooling the fever pooling in my feet. His thumb pressed into the arch of one foot, kneading it.

I opened my eyes. He stared at me as he massaged, paying no mind to the sores on my toes, the blood leaking down the side.

He let out a deep sigh, keeping my gaze. The orange swirls I could’ve sworn I saw when he played the cello flowed over my feet. It billowed around them, caressing and sparkling. I held my breath, watching the unimaginable. One by one, my blisters disappeared. The brightness of the swirling light intensified as it cascaded over the sores and torn pieces of flesh. When it disappeared, my feet looked as normal as they had this morning. The ache was gone, and so was all the pain my pointe shoes inflicted.

His fingers stopped moving, hands resting on my feet. We stared at each other, and my throat cracked as I tried to speak.

“What was that?” I managed to ask.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, still staring at me.

I sat up straight. “How did you do that, Ace?”

His mouth opened.

“Laurel? Are you okay?” Kate asked, the skin between her brows wrinkled with concern.

My chest pumped up and down as I searched Ace’s face. His jaw tightened.

“I’m fine, Kate. Wicked shin splints, you know?”

She scrunched her nose. “Ouch. Those are the worst.”

“She should probably take the rest of the day off,” Ace added, not looking at Kate.

Kate cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Probably for the best. Wouldn’t want to be out of commission for the rest of the week,” I replied, my voice distant.

“Alrighty. I’ll uh—let Roy know.” She turned away but twisted back on her heel. “I assume you too will be out for the rest of the day, Ace?”

“Roy knows I wasn’t supposed to be here today anyway,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Laurel.” Kate walked off.

I gave the weakest wave imaginable, not knowing if she was still around to see it. “You weren’t supposed to be here today?”

He shook his head. His hands still rested on my feet, but I didn’t brush them away. The warmth coursing through my toes soothed my growing anxiety.

“I have a concert tonight. I wanted to see you. To talk to you.” He squeezed the ball of my foot.

“About your orange sparkles?” My gaze dropped to his hands.

His fingers tapped against the top of my foot. “Amongst other things.”

This was crazy. I pulled my feet from his lap and stood up. Moments ago, I was crying into his shoulder because the pain in my feet was excruciating. Now it was as if it never happened.

He walked up behind me but didn’t try to touch. “Come to my concert tonight, Sparky. You can watch from the wings.”

I whirled around to face him. “I’ve already seen your concert, Ace.”

“Not from that angle, you haven’t.” His fingers wiggled at his sides. I could tell he wanted to touch me. Probably move the strand of hair that’d fallen over my forehead, but he respected my distance. “Please?” His lips thinned.

How could I say no to that face?

“Alright. But you need to promise you’re going to explain how you healed my feet. Every explanation I try to come up with has a hundred loopholes.”

Salve? Sure, but where did it come from? His hands were on my feet the entire time. Voodoo? Come on, Laurel.

“You’ll get your answer. Can I send a car for you?”

I stared at him, only able to nod.

I wanted answers—needed them. No one said I was prepared for it.

I stood in the wings, dodging stagehands as they bustled back and forth across the stage. Mic checks. Guitar strums. I clutched the lanyard around my neck. The one that said: VIP Guest. Not backstage pass. A guest. It gave me free access anywhere. Even Ace’s dressing room, if I pleased.

“Hey. Laurel, right?” The band’s drummer asked, twirling a drumstick in one hand and sticking the other out to shake.

I shook his hand. “That’s right. I’m sorry I don’t know your name?”

“Teeg,” he said after a snicker. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Kate and Ace. But mostly Ace.”

I didn’t know which part of that comment to concentrate on. The fact he was talking to Kate or that Ace talked about me with his bandmates. “Oh?”

He smiled, revealing a gold tooth. “Enjoy the show. Best seats in the house.” He ran out on stage, holding both sticks in the air.

“Trying to make me jealous flirting with the drummer?” Ace asked from behind me.

I whipped around, giving my hair a toss. “Maybe. Were you?”

“Considering how the past few days have gone, I’d be lying if I said wasn’t a little.” His electric guitar rested on the back of his shoulders. He placed one forearm on the neck, the other on the body.

My eyes roamed over his chiseled chest peeking through the golden vest he wore. “Well, don’t be. He was just telling me how much you talk about me.”

“I do.” He stepped forward, picking up the pass hanging around my neck with two fingers. “You’re worth talking about.” He bit down on his lower lip, running his thumb over the laminate before dropping it with a wink and heading for the stage.

During that brief exchange, I forgot about the mysterious orange swirls—all the crazy things which made me wonder if he were an alien.

Ace worked his magic on stage, throwing his fists in the air to drive the crowd wild. Between songs, the lights turned off—darkness coated the arena. He formed the same glowing bow and arrow. The light this close to the stage illuminated Ace’s silhouette. The orange hue emanated from his hands as he pulled the fake arrow back, shooting it into the crowd. My heart skipped a beat.

Was it coming from him? How?

As the concert continued, Ace kept looking over at me and smiling. Not once did he go to the edges of the stage shirtless and shove his crotch at a female fan as he’d done to Kate and me. He waved at a few and gave them high fives, but no different than he’d treated the male fans.

“I’ve sung this next song over a hundred times, but tonight, it takes on a whole new meaning. I’d like to dedicate it to a special woman.” He turned his body toward the wings, pointing at me with a sparkle in his gaze. “She knows who she is.”

Butterflies beat against my stomach. I clutched the lanyard tight around my neck, slightly choking myself.

He sang the song Rays, the first one I’d taken a moment to listen to—truly listen. When he sang about being born of the sun, let me share its warmth with you, a heat pooled in my abdomen. He was always so warm. With one brush of his finger, I could withstand frigid temperatures in a thin piece of fabric.

Apollo’s Suns. Was he—no…why would he be a rock star in a band?

I gulped and backed up until my butt hit a chair. Feeling short of breath, I flopped into it, waiting for the last song to end, knowing I’d have to wait for an encore or two or three before I could reclaim him from the clutches of the audience.

They did only one encore despite the whooping audience. He trotted off stage, pulling the strap over his head, and peered down at me.

“Let’s go talk.” He held out his hand.

I let him guide me to his dressing room. When he let go of my hand to lock the door, I grabbed my lanyard with both hands.

“Who are you? Who are you, really?”

Ace dragged a hand down his face and paced the length of the room.

“My band is Apollo’s Suns. I’m an expert with all musical instruments though I prefer the strings. I inspire, I’m a master of archery, can control the sun…” He rolled his hand in the air, raising his eyebrows.

Was he expecting me to do something with all of that?

“And?”

His eyes shifted. “Are you familiar with Greek mythology?”

“I’ve always been more of a Norse mythology fan. You know, Thor and all.” I shrugged.

“Thor. I know him. My dad hates him, so naturally, I like the big guy.”

My eyes went wide, staring at him talking like a crazy person. “Ace…”

He closed the distance between us. “Laurel. I’m the Apollo.”

“Apollo. God of the Sun.”

“Yes.”

“Son of Zeus.”

“Yes.”

I watched his expression. It didn’t falter. He said every word with complete conviction and not once cracked a smile. “Ace, come on. This is crazy. I know you have an ego, but I don’t care. You don’t have to—”

He opened his hand, and the sparkly orange swirls formed an orb in his palm. “How do you explain this? Hm?” He waved his other hand around it. The light didn’t fade. If it would’ve been a projection, his hand would’ve blocked it. “Or the warmth coursing through you when I touch you?”

He placed a single finger on my arm, instantly heating it.

I stepped back, letting my hands fall at my sides. “I don’t. I mean. Seriously?”

He wriggled his fingers, making the orange magic disappear. “Yes. All of this is only a fraction of what I can do.”

My throat dried, and I held back a cough. “I’d like to go home now, please.”

He frowned, his brows cinching. “I’ll call the car around.”

“I’m not saying I don’t believe, I—”

He held a hand up. “You don’t have to say it. I get it. I was done lying to you, is all.”

“Thank you,” I squeaked.

Tears filled my eyes. I sniffled as I moved past him, wishing I could pretend like what he meant did nothing to sway my mind. But claiming you’re a Greek god—a myth I thought only existed in fairy tales…it was hard to grasp. I’d started to like him—genuinely like him despite his arrogance. His actions and words spoke volumes. But if he was a god—an immortal. I risked breaking my own heart for an entirely different reason.